The Voice In My Head
by VioletYami
Summary: Before Wade met Stryker he had to learn to deal with a voice in his head narrating everything he does. This voice that ruined his life, made him crazy, and chased away his one love. But it promises to make all his dreams come true, but only if he listens.


**This is a prequel to the movie Wolverine:Origins following Wade Wilson before he was employed by Stryker. It also is a prequel sort of to my story Power Hungry, but you don't need to read both, as this is all about Wade. However feel free to check out Power Hungry at my profile. **

**Anyways most people know that Wade is known as a special character who can break the fourth wall, aka talk to the audience/knows he's in a comic. I found it fun to write for them and interact with him so I wrote this. Please and enjoy and leave a review telling me what you think!**

**Violet Yami**

**PS: I don't own Wade Wilson, Marvel does... :P**

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><p>Wade Wilson has always been a little crazy.<p>

"Screw you writer, I didn't make myself crazy," Wade mumbled annoyed. He was alone as usual at the pub, just himself and a beer. And no Wade, I personally did not make you crazy, blame Rob Liefeld and Fabian Nicieza.

Wade raised an eyebrow while starring at his beer, still mumbling, "Fabian? The guy's name is Fabian?"

Hey, zip it Wade, don't be an asshole. Wade shrugged and took a swig of the alcohol which was slowly poisoning his liver.

"Jesus, Writer don't get on my ass for drinking, again," Wade moaned. The guy didn't know that the writer is just fucking with him.

Wade laughed softly, "Is it your idea of fun to mock me?" And yes, it felt great to just know I was screwing with someone.

"How long have you've been doing this now? Narrating my life?" Wade asked. It's been a year that Wade had been hearing this voice in his head. This voice that told him what was going on, and how he was feeling had started when he was 29.

At first he thought he was going insane and tried to rid himself of the voice. He had locked himself in a room and had screamed at the ceiling for the voice to go away. This stint had almost caused him to commit suicide, and had also caused him to lose his fruitful military career. Wade had to be taken to a mental institution after trying to drill a hole in his head to rid himself of the voice.

Wade shook his head, "You certainly fucked me up back then."

But as soon as Wade had calmed down a bit and listened to the voice, only then did he realize that the voice wasn't there to cause harm, but help him through life.

"Help? Now that's a joke, wouldn't you agree reader? A voice drives me to the point of insanity and then tells me it's here to help? You must agree I had every right to think I was a little nuts," Wade raises his beer to the unseen audience.

Anyway, as Wade slowly, and I mean SLOWLY, realized that everything he was hearing was true and that he really was in book, his senses came back.

"This is about half a year ago," Wade cut in.

Whatever, Wade listened to what the voice was telling him and soon was released. The institution found him sane, and Wade came to terms with the voice in his head.

"And here I am, jobless, without a penny," Wade stated louder than he should have.

The bartender leaned close to Wade, "Okay buddy, I've been watching you for about an hour now. You've been mumbling to yourself all night like a crazy person, but I let'cha stay. Wanna know why?"

The bartender looked like someone out of an old western, handlebar moustache, bald, apron and white shirt. Wade snickered at the Writer's comment, trying to control himself he said, "Cause you're a nice guy?"

"No, because I mind my own business. But when you start saying stuff like your penny less and you're drinking my beer I start to worry," the man glared angrily.

However this man's glare reminded Wade of an angry beaver, as the bartender had a terrible overbite, small eyes, and an almost-rodent like face.

Wade bit his lip trying not laugh, under his breath he muttered, "Stop, c'mon, don't do this."

"Pardon?" the bartender grabbed Wade by the front of his shirt. The man's eyes had gotten so wide that they were prodding out of their sockets in a comedic way. "Don't do what? This is my bar you moron, now pay up and get out!" Spittle flew out of his mouth and his two front teeth clicked loudly like a beaver gnawing on a log.

This did it for Wade who found many stupid things in this world funny, and he started to laugh loudly, "God damn it Writer, you asshole," he laughed.

With a crack, the bartender punched Wade in the face, surprisingly strong for such a skinny man. But Wade continued to laugh, for reasons unknown to himself, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it had to do with the writer.

Without out a break Wade grabbed the bartender's head and smashed it into the counter, he could hear the snap of the bartender's nose breaking. The rest of the people in the bar were watching in interest. Some regulars stood up to help the bartender who was now coughing up blood.

Wade was still laughing as he stood up from the stool and turned around to examine the large, burly men moving towards him.

"Why Writer? Why?" Wade asked laughing at the situation he was in. The audience needs some excitement Wade; I just give it to them.

He grabbed the something sticking out of his duffle bag, the silver flashed even in the dim light, "Now boys, I think you settle down, sit and enjoy your beer. Or else someone is going to be loosing his insides." He held his sword at the neck of a fat man with barely a neck.

"Don't mess with him, the guy's freakin' crazy," the bartender moaned, "Just get out of here you psycho!"

The large men backed down as Wade grabbed his bag; he walked slowly to the door like he owned the place. He grabbed someone's beer that was sitting at the bar. The man didn't argue. "Adios my friends, and have a good day!" Wade laughed and pushed open the door.

Outside in the rain Wade laughed again, "You know what I've just realized Writer? If I only started hearing you a year ago, why do you say I've always been crazy?"

The rain poured down on Wade soaking the man to the core, yet he didn't seem to notice but kept drinking the beer as he walked down the dark street. He choked on the drink laughing at the seriousness of the description the writer was giving.

"No seriously, why?" Wade pushed. You see Wade; you've always been a little crazy.

We all are.


End file.
